


I Get Drunk On Jealousy

by MintQueenJo



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Meddling Feyre, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Feyre, Smut, Sneaky plans, Wrong texts, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 16:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20411017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintQueenJo/pseuds/MintQueenJo
Summary: It started with a simple text and a plan popped into Feyre's head, she had to help Rhys no matter what. Even if that meant that she'd have to come to terms with her own feelings for the idiot.





	I Get Drunk On Jealousy

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ACOTAR work

** _I may have had a wet dream about your friend. Again._ **

Feyre stared down at her phone in shock, eyes slowly blinking. Her head popped up to look at the male sitting across the dining room of their local mom & pop restaurant of their little college town. His head was straight forward staring at his cousin, her friend, Mor. His head cocked to the side and Feyre turned back to her phone.

She knew that they were somewhat close since her and Mor became quick friends in their history class that led to them taking painting together.

** _I may have had a wet dream about your friend. Again._ **

It wasn’t Mor, since they were cousins.

It wasn’t Amren, because she would rip his balls off. And was more _ his _friend than her’s.

That left only one other person Feyre could think of.

“Feyre?”

She blinked as that other person said her name.

“Feyre, really we’ve been talking to you for the past couple of minutes, where were you?” The blonde gave her a what-the-fuck-are-you-stupid? smile and it made her stomach lurch. Ianthe flipped her hair over her shoulder and tilted her head towards Feyre’s boyfriend Tamlin.

“Tamlin, don’t you agree that Feyre has been so busy? Spacing out during lunch right as you were asking her about the party you were throwing?”

Why were they friends?

Why?

Feyre particularly didn’t like the annoying blonde who hung off Tamlin as if she was his second skin, nor did she see her as a good match for her best friend’s cousin. Even if her eyes were the perfect shade of sky blue, while Feyre’s own looked like a stormy day. Even if her breasts were round and perky, maybe because of surgery or not, or her blonde hair with a slight wave in it. All the while Feyre’s breasts were just there and her hair always messy and such a light mousy brown that it could’ve been blonde…

…only when it’s been in the sun for days. She frowned a little before turning to Tamlin, not particularly caring for his parties. His wild parties where people got too drunk and too wild.

“Uh yeah, can you excuse me for a moment?” She mumbled before getting up and crossing that tiled floor, Mor’s face beamed as she approached. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Feyre didn’t wait for an answer before sitting down next to Mor, across from where Rhys, now in line to refill his drink, was sitting.

She pulled out her phone, ** _your cousin sent me a text about something._ **

** _Oh? About what?_ **

Feyre showed her friend the text and Mor’s face went through shock before scrunching up then going blank and just staring at Feyre then Rhys then back.

“I know, I wouldn’t think Ianthe would be his type,” she turned her head completely missing the look Mor gave her. The are-you-fucking-kidding-me type of look. “But I think that maybe if you all came to Tamlin’s party tonight we could push them together?” Something twinged in her stomach and she didn’t know what. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ianthe and Tamlin staring at her, pure annoyance on their faces before turning back to look at each other.

She also saw Rhys turn with his drink and falter as he saw her, they got along, sure, but they weren’t the best of friends which left the text message he sent to her as such a surprise.

“Feyre, darling?” A smirk and she smiled a little back, _ be polite he has a thing for Ianthe it seems. _

“Let me know okay?” She got up shooting a look at Mor and headed back to her own table. She watched as Mor tapped Rhys’s phone and he picked it up going stiff. What was that about? “Sorry, Mor had an important question that I need to ans- “

“No.” Tamlin frowned at her, his knuckles going white around his fork. “I tolerate her friendship to you but none of that group,” he hissed the word, “are welcome.”

She knew what he meant, Rhysand wasn’t invited. Whatever feud they had it had escaped Feyre’s attention for it, something that happened way before Feyre and her sisters moved out to this small town after their parents had passed away.

She ducked her head, casting a quick glance at her blonde friend before she continued to eat her food. Maybe if they started dating Tamlin would reconsider, but at the same time.

Feyre recalled to how Lucien had looked when Tamlin publicly humiliated him when he found out that he was dating both Feyre’s second eldest sister and her boyfriend, Rhys’s other best friend Azriel. Tamlin told Lucien that he could help him get Az and Elain to break up so Lucien could have her to himself but that dating anyone in Rhys’s circle was a no go.

After Lucien refused and continued to date the handsome darker half to her sister, his rock since also being disowned by his father, Tamlin had done more than spread Lucien’s naked pictures around, he had openly let Lucien know who his father was. Not the man that he had called father for years but the archaeologist who now taught at the next town over.

While in itself was a relief to not have to share genes with the not father he had, it came at a shitty time, in the middle of a divorce. Once it spread about her infidelity, Lucien’s father kicked him out and left him homeless.

Not wanting to move and stay with his mother, or with the friend who had betrayed him. So he chose to move in with Azriel.

Tamlin swore he didn’t do it, he swore the pictures weren’t him, and he swore that he was just telling Lucien about it in case it came out in the divorce. How other people had overheard was beyond him.

Feyre knew better, she knew Tamlin was a horrible person. Yet, why was she still there? She wondered if he would also cast out Ianthe or would Tamlin come around.

“I think,” She had begun later on in the car when it was just her and him. “I think Rhysand may have a thing for Ianthe.”

Tamlin’s knuckles tightened on the wheel and a hiss came through his teeth. “Is that so?”

“I’m not sure.” She turned to look at him, “if they start dating will you be hard on Ianthe too?”

Tamlin seemed to have sped up before sharply taking a corner, Feyre’s hand shot out to catch her on the dash when he braked.

“What happened with Lucien wasn’t my fault. He did it to himself.”

They were blocks from her apartment, actually near where Rhys and Cassian lived, when she finally got the balls to say something, “Why am I not allowed to have friends unless they are approved by you. And even then, they’re not allowed around me unless you’re there?”

“Feyre, we are not having this conversation.” He grits out and she shook her head.

“I don’t like your friends, I don’t like your parties,” she stared straight ahead. “I don’t think we go together anymore.”

There it was the thought that had been plaguing her for days, the thought she had pushed down repeatedly thinking something was wrong with her. The start of a thought that had hit her then made her sick when she read Rhys’ message, that she wasn’t happy with Tamlin.

And she wasn’t.

She found herself smiling more with Mor and Cassian arguing. She smiled when Az and Lucien would whisper their little conversations to each other or their soft touches, and when Elaine would run her hands through their hair, or have Feyre draw little flowers for her to give them.

She smiled when Amren would beat Nesta at chess, and when they’d gather for dinner. Dinner that Tamlin was never invited to.

Dinner that Rhysand was allowed to go to. Rhysand who had a dream about Ianthe.

The car came to a screeching halt and Tamlin’s hand grabbed Feyre’s arm. “What are you saying?”

She winced away and he just gripped harder, her free hand fumbled around, and she whimpered. “Let go Tamlin. Let go.” She tried to pull her arm away which just made him grab her tighter.

Her free hand grabbed the door and popped it open, “let me go!” She yelled when she saw Nesta walking on the sidewalk with Cassian. “Cassian!” She screamed and his head popped up zeroing on her.

His face set in murderous rage as he descended on the car and Tamlin let go so Feyre could jump out of the car. Cassian opening his arms as he stared the prick down.

“Are you okay?” He asked as Nesta went stomping by pulling her hair up in a bun.

Feyre could’ve sworn she saw Tamlin shrink back worse than when he saw Cassian, she knew her sister was a force to be reckoned with and Tamlin had finally pissed the wrong Archeron sister off, well not yet Elain was worse. The eldest’s voice carried every foul word she called him down the block, and the slap she gave him echoed.

Cassian’s face seemed flushed to Feyre when Nesta marched back past them and went to open the front door to get to the apartment.

“That cocksuck,” Nesta inspected the bruise on Feyre’s arm as Cassian growled, typing away on his phone. “I know you should do whatever it is you want as an adult but I’m saying it now you’re not to see him again.”

“Done.” She answered and it shocked her sister. “I broke up with him anyways.”

Feyre smiled as she let herself into the little house Mor and Amren shared. Amren quickly moving out of the dorms and into the spare room that was open when Feyre got her own apartment. Rhys was mainly over to avoid Nesta and Cassian, since he originally shared the apartment with Cassian first. There was a third bedroom that when there, Feyre had turned it into a library and painting studio. Amren kept a small section for Feyre to draw but it was mainly just library now.

“How was the party?” She asked as she sat in front of Mor, making a face and jerking her head at Rhys’s back as he bent over a book showing something to Amren.

“Feyre, what happened?” Mor leaned close, right as Rhys turned and she spotted the bruise on his cheek.

“What happened?” She reached out to touch it then pulled back before her fingers made contact, when Rhys almost flinched.

“You tell me, Tamlin said something about catching you whoring around and saying other things. Rhys and he got into it.” Mor frowned and then a look came into her eyes.

“I broke up with him and he didn’t take it so well.” Feyre tucked some loose hair behind her ear, eyes glancing at Rhys’ cheek every now and then. His eyes seeming to catch every gaze. “I’m sorry that you had to stick up for me.”

Her word no sooner left her mouth than when a foot kicked the door open, Elain was storming through practically dragging both of her boyfriends behind her. “What. The. Fuck. Happened!” Az’s cheek was as equally bruised. They stared in complete awe at their fire breathing dragon.

Feyre honestly swore that she saw a shiver run up Lucien.

“Gross.” Amren rolled her eyes and continued to look at the book Rhys had given her. “Control yourselves in my presence, mortals.” Her long dark nails shaped into claws tapped against the table daring anyone to say anything.

“Mortals.” Cassian shoved past everyone and chuckled. “Oh great pissy goddess do you want one heart or two for brunch?”

“So I take it the party was bad?” Feyre asks again and everyone turns to her.

“Well, duh.” Mor says and stands up taking her hand to pull her away, They’re several doors down into the library, away from the living room. “So uh, about that text?”

“Listen if not for Tamlin I would have been there to make sure that Ianthe and Rhys hit it off.” Feyre studies the wall of books before walking to a different shelf. “I was thinking invite each of them out but lie and not show up. Then they’d have to do dinner with each other!”

Mor looks positively uncomfortable. “Feyre.” She rubbed her neck and Feyre was too busy sitting down at the sketchbook she kept lying around, quickly flipping through all the sketches to a blank page.

“Feyre?” Mor places a hand on hers. “Would you be okay if Ianthe and Rhys dated? I mean being Rhys’ friend you’d have to see Ianthe and by association Tamlin.”

She looks at the blonde, lips pursed when she finally shrugs. She never thought about it that way, “I guess I’ll have to be for Rhys’ happiness.”

She watches as Mor grabs the sketch book, “you left this is here. Amren found it first and put it back, realizing I’ve already seen it.” She holds it in front of Feyre’s face, as the pages fall different sketches of Rhys and her friends pass by her grey eyes. More of Rhys than anything.

Mor’s expression reads you idiot.

Feyre just shrugs and takes the sketchbook back. “He is interesting to draw. I have a sketchbook dedicated to all of you.” And while it was a small lie it was also true. She did have sketchbooks dedicated to her friends and sisters, Rhys was also in those. Feyre closed the sketchbook and put it under her arm. “I am fine, Mor! It’s what Rhys wanted.”

“What did I want?” The devil himself was closing the library door and leaned against it, his face slipped from the infuriating smirk to a wary look of worry. His arms uncrossed from his chest and the button up he was wearing was unbuttoned at the neck.

Feyre frowns at both of them before standing up stretching, “that maybe a night out would be good.”

He raised and eyebrow as Mor’s mouth started to hang open.

“Ya’know us two? Like I’ll meet you at that cafe downtown? Let’s set it up for ninish,” she puts her thumb to her bottom lip. “Because tomorrow is Sunday, you don’t have classes right? Well see you there!”

Feyre ignored Mor who put her head in her hands, what she also didn’t see was Rhys’ face go pink under the tan skin, a far away look in his eyes.

She sighed as she walked the few blocks to the art shop she worked at. Even though it wasn’t her shift today she did need paints for her class project. She waves at the woman behind the counter, Alis. The middle aged woman motioned to the back room before following Feyre to the back.

“We got a stock of paints grab what you need and I’ll ring you up.”

Feyre is in the back sorting out the tubes she needs when her phone buzzes.

** _What the fuck Feyre? You and Tamlin broke up?!?!?!_ **

She sighs and looks at the ceiling, Ianthe was a little infuriating, but she would continue to put up with her is it meant Rhys being happy.

** _It’s a long story and I need someone to talk to. Drinks at 9?_ **

After Ianthe agrees, Feyre gives her the name of the cafe, Sidra. It was one of Feyre’s places to go. She never brought anyone there, other than Rhys.

The phone in her hands trembled. Would she be okay if Ianthe and him got together? Would she even be okay knowing that they were having sex?

She packs up the paint and pulls out her wallet to take it to the front, “you look like you’re about to vomit.” Alis rings her up.

“Alis, if you had a friend text you that they had desires for another friend of yours, how would you react?” Feyre folded her arms on the counter, Alis tapped a finger on her chin.

“Well I would set them up. If the other party is also interested it’s a bonus. But there’s more isn’t it?”

“The friend that they like is actually best friends with your ex you don’t want to be around,” Feyre notices Alis looks a little worried. “And you may have, through going to great lengths to get both parties together, realized that you have feelings for that friend. The one who I’m trying to help.”

Alis bags the paints taking a while to answer. “Well, no harm in trying. You either say something and that friend doesn’t reciprocate, or they do. Or you can let them have their happy ending with the person they want and learn to get over what you want.” She hands the bag and touches Feyre’s cheek. “Or you do and you sit wondering what would have happened if you tried.”

Feyre waves as she leaves and heads back to her apartment, her cat meowed and she sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home last night. I had stayed with Aunty Nesta and Uncle Cassian.” The cat meowed louder and then jumped off the table to purr against her leg before walking over to loaf on the spot on the window alcove. The pillows Feyre had piled there shifted with the cat. The sky looked like rain as time passed and as it got closer to nine Feyre texted Rhys and Ianthe individually to tell the hostess for her name. She did have to make the reservation since she forgot that Saturday nights they were at their busiest. Their cake was amazing and Feyre almost wished she could’ve blown her plan to get some of their Raspberry Mousse Delight. A white cake with Raspberry mousse between the layers and covered in the mousse with chocolate shavings and cookie crumbles on top. Just thinking about it made her mouth water.

Maybe tomorrow.

The rain hit the window and Feyre curled up with a cup of Chamomile tea. The sketchbook in her lap as she thought about how Mor pointed out her own feelings towards Rhys. Her stomach curled as she knew he would be the perfect gentleman and help Ianthe in the rain. He would put his coat around her shoulders like he did for Feyre. She loved the smell of the leather jacket and him. She sipped her drink slowly trying to think about anything but him, the clock read twenty after nine. Well no texts.

Not that she would know, she left her phone on do not disturb and didn’t want to look at it. She finished her tea and set it down on the floor and picked up the sketchbook, frowning as Rhys’ face smirked at her.

“Fuck me.” She whined as a sharp pain poked her chest. She had feelings bad, and he was having wet dreams about Ianthe.

The knocking on her door made her jump, it was less knocking and more like a thunderous pounding. She froze, what if it was Tamlin? Oh don’t be him, please. She made her way to the door and the pounding happened again. She unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door just a little.

Rhys glared at her through the crack, “you have one chance to explain yourself, Feyre darling.”

His tone sent a shiver down her spine and she frowned, trying to ignore the warmth that started between her legs. She opened the door and he walked in setting a paper bag on the counter.

“I brought you cake. After I had to explain to _ Ianthe _ that I was there waiting for you. Just to have her inform me that she was waiting there for _ you _.” He dug through her silverware drawer to pull out two forks. “So Archeron, what do have to say?” He asked as he pulled out two boxes of cake.

An orange chocolate thing. It was dark fudgy layers of chocolate cake infused with orange juice, the icing was chocolate with zest. It was garnished with a peeled orange slice and a fancy orange peel garnish. Feyre wrinkled her nose. They called it Night Eternal or some bullshit thing that made Feyre roll her eyes. Next to it, he pulled out the familiar raspberry cake that she loved.

He sat at the table and motioned with his fork, “sit, and you better start talking.”

Her heart raced and she knew he had to hear it, right? The fork seemed heavy in her hand when she sat and picked it up. Rhys opened her container and then took a bite of his own cake, blue eyes piercing her own. A perfectly dark brow raised. “Well?”

She blew out the breath she was holding and took a bite of cake, “so I got that text from you. And I don’t know what you wanted me to do. Like I thought that,” she pauses how to let him know? “I didn’t know how to get you two together, I couldn’t really tell Ianthe that you had a thing for her, and like.” She swallowed at the strange look in his eyes. “I knew that if I involved you that you would’ve gotten mad at me for meddling. So how about some milk?”

She scrambles quickly out of her seat to grab two glasses and pull the milk out of the fridge. She can feel his eyes on her back and she thinks she’ll catch on fire. “So I planned that you would go and I told Ianthe I wanted to talk to her and told her to go there. The hope was that you’d get a pair and tell the object of your, uh, wet dream that you felt that way. Maybe you’d get a girlfriend.” She shrugs and sets a glass down in front of him.

He takes a sip staring at the slice when she opens her mouth again, Alis’ words about wondering what would’ve happened if she did try. “And as the night went on and the time got closer I realized, I’m not okay with the idea of you and her _ together _, let alone intimately acquainted.”

Her sets the fork down and turns his very blue eyes towards hers, and Feyre curses under her breath. No matter how many times she painted anything, she couldn’t get that shade. Even when she did her black and white portraits and added the color she most associated them with. Mor was her red lipstick, Cassian was the red of his necklace that he got from Hawaii with Nesta, Lucien was his red hair and Az was the blue of the tattoos that covered his scarred hands. Her sisters had the pinks of flowers in Elain’s hair and the purple of the matching necklace Nesta wore. Amren was the gold earrings and rings she wore. And for Rhys it was always his eyes.

His eyes she could never match.

“That text wasn’t meant for you. It was meant for Mor.” He finally said after they stared at each other for a few minutes.

“Wait,” Feyre sat down her partially drunk glass of milk. “Why would you send that to Mor? Her and Ianthe barely get along. So they’re not friends.” She started to giggle before at the raise of his eyebrow and a certain look entered his eyes. Her own expression went blank.

The text was meant for Mor.

Mor, his cousin.

Mor, her friend.

‘I may have had a wet dream about your friend. _ Again. _’

The text was meant for Mor to let her know that he was having a dream, again, about Feyre. Rhys was having dreams, _ wet _dreams, about her.

“Rhysand.” She sat in her seat, eyes never leaving her cake.

“I’m sorry.” He eventually said. “The text wasn’t meant for you, and I was thoroughly embarrassed to say anything and thought you;d just laugh it off. Then you weren’t at the party, I went only because you were there. And I wanted to piss off Tamlin, it’s a specialty and a third favorite activity of mine.” That devilish smirk as he turns his head towards Feyre, before a surprised look crossed his face. “I got you something and I left it in my car. I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t speak as her front door closed behind him and he was gone for a little longer than it should have taken him to get to her visitor parking spot, plus he had forgotten his phone and car keys on the table.

The door opened and he slid in, hands empty. He leaned against the door before walking to the table, his wet hair plastered across his forehead. He sat back down eyes not leaving the table. Feyre got up to grab a clean kitchen towel and started to rub it against his head, her heart fluttering.

“You were going to leave?”

He hummed and reached up to lightly take her wrists in his hands, “I was losing my, uh. I just didn’t have the courage to tell you.”

She waited, watching a few water drops run down his face. “Well?”

“I went to the party, because you were supposed to be there.” He whispered.

“I gathered that as I was told.” She freed a wrist and took the towel to wipe behind his ears and neck.

“And I went because Cassian said you and the dick broke up. I was hopeful that there I could, I don’t know confess? And you weren’t there so I thought you were taking the break up hard, and I was thinking that you’d take him back. I mean he’s golden boy. A dick, but your type.” Rhys tilted his face up as Feyre wiped his neck down, he shrugged out of his jacket and it dropped to the floor. The front of his shirt was soaked. “And I was going to ask you how you were when you came over, and I went into the library in case you were crying and having a heart to heart with my cousin. I was wholly prepared to help you make up with him, I was prepared to give you up.” He swallowed as she tugged at his shirt and he pulled it off. “Then you asked me out, I thought that’s what it was. Not you trying to set me up with… the blonde she witch. And I told Mor that I was going to tell you. That I was going to give you the option of trying me on. I mean I didn’t want to sit there with what ifs, the rejection would have killed me but at least I tried.”

Feyre dropped the towel and took their glasses to the sink before placing their left over cake in the fridge.

“Then I show up and give your name and I’m sitting there, looking over cake,” he laughs, “like I don’t know what we are going to get. I always get the same thing and so do you. And then I look up and Ianthe is being lead towards me. We just looked at each other and she got mad when I told her she wasn’t you. She seemed insulted. But I was confused then I was angry. Angry that it was a joke, that you knew from the accidental text and that you were dragging me on. I ordered our cake to go, I could at least bring you a peace offering, or something for when you laughed at me for being hopelessly stupid. I was angry and embarrassed and hurt. I thought you were fucking with me, really.

“I never speed, ever. You know that, but I sped to get here. I didn’t care if I wrecked, it wouldn’t have been as painful as what I thought you did to me. I was hurt as I waited for you to answer, and you answered a wary look, and I thought ‘she knows she fucked up. I was right.’ and you just let me in.”

“I thought you were Tamlin, honestly.” She whispered and hurt flashed across his face. “With the way you were knocking, I thought he came to yell at me and make me take him back. Not that I want him back.”

Their eyes met and Feyre grabbed Rhys’ face before ducking down to place her lips over his. Rhys froze and then was kissing her back.

“Feyre.” He groaned and she wanted nothing more than to sit in his lap. She wanted nothing more than to make him groan her name again. To say it for the rest of their lives. “Feyre,” he said much softer.

“I was going to go to the cafe and crash your date. I wanted you to know that I want you, Rhysand. I want you more than I can stand. I want you so much that I can’t even breathe sometimes. I didn’t know until I thought you wanted Ianthe.” She kissed him once, twice. “I want nothing more than to sit on your lap and kiss you until you steal my breath from me.”

His smile becomes feral, wicked. “I want nothing more than to make you mine, Feyre darling. I dreamed of bending you over the table in Mor's dining room, and feasting between your thighs on a couch in the library like you’re my own buffet to enjoy.” He smiles wider as her breath catches. “The bruises my mouth would leave, the ache I wanted to last in you so everytime you walked you thought of me filling you up. I want your pretty round mouth around my cock, sucking on me like I was the best thing you’ve ever tasted. How you would moan around me, how you’ll feel around me.

“I dreamt of your eyes rolling in your head as I made you suck on my fingers. Of your breathy moans as I shoved those fingers into you one by one. How you’d whisper my name as I thrust my cock into your wet heat. As I made you bounce on my lap. The look of your back in a perfect arch as I took you from behind.” Feyre doesn’t think she's breathing anymore, she feels so hot and dizzy. “I dreamt of taking you at Tamlin’s party, having you pressed against a door in his ridiculously big house, really who needs that much space? I’d take advantage of every inch. I longed to make you so hoarse that you couldn’t speak in class. There are many wicked things I want to do to you, Feyre.” His voice became impeccably soft. “But more than anything, Feyre darling, I want to take you apart slowly. I want you to beg me, I want you to dig your fingers into my back. I want to press my chest agaisnt yours, our hearts beating against each other’s, and fuck you into the mattress so slowly. I want to swallow every breath and hear you whisper my name as I make love to you.”

Feyre had his hands still in her hands as she bent down once more to brush her lips against his, only to pause and breathe against his, “what is stopping you right now?”

His lips parted in an open mouthed grin of sorts where he pants across her lips, “your permission.”

“You have it.” She sits down on his lap and tangles her fingers in his hair as she slots their lips together. Rhys deepens the kiss and his tongue runs across her bottom lip. She lets him taste what every kiss is to be as he does the same. His hands go under her shirt to rest on her hips before sliding up, dragging the fabric with his hands. Feyre pulls away to cross her arms and pull it off before lunging forward to kiss him again.

Her naked chest pressed against his and he moans at the feel of her naked back in his hands.

“I have condoms. A whole box.” She mumbles and then wonders why her brain hadn’t stopped her mouth.

His laugh rings out between them, “good. I have a feeling, love, that we will be needing many.”

He stands up and her limbs wrap around him, his lips attach to her neck and suck as he walks them to Feyre’s bedroom. He had only been over a few times, once to help her move in and the others for dinner with Mor. Feyre huffed as she was tossed on the bed, Rhys’ hand unbuttoned then unzipped his jeans.

Feyre pulled her own sleep shorts and panties off, completely bare under his gaze. “Well?” She smirked as she parted her legs, the evidence of the effect of his words. She lowered a hand to herself and slipped two fingers in before pulling them out to circle her clit once before pulling her hand away. She holds them out to him and he kneels on the bed taking ahold of her writs to guide her hand towards him. She places her fingers into his mouth and moans as his tongue cleans the digits.

She trembles at his own moan, the taste of her better than he could have ever imagined. She pulled her fingers out and he moved to lie between her thighs, arms wrapping around her thighs to hold them open. Her feet dug into his back where her knees were on his shoulders. The first flick of his tongue she nearly screamed.

The second she moaned. The third had her placing a hand on the back of his head, to grab his hair. He made good on his promise of him treating her as his own personal meal. His mouth moved to her clit and he sucked the nub into his mouth as he pressed two fingers into her. A few thrusts and he adds another, then another.

“Four?” She pants out and he pulls his head away.

“This okay?” He pants, laying his cheek against her thigh. “Let me know if I hurt you.”

Feyre can only nod as she clenches her jaw against her first orgasm, Rhys’ fingers don’t slow down as his eyes take in her quivering body. He lowers his head again to continue to lap at her as his fingers continue what they are doing. He knows she’s very close again when he pulls her into his mouth and she pushes his head so hard that he can’t breathe, not that he’s complaining.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop.” She pushes on his head even more. “Baby, please.”

He pulls away to stare at her again, his fingers searching for that wonderful spot inside her. “C’mon baby, c’mon. I got you. You can come.” He is pleading as she whines, her back curving as her legs lock straight. He can’t move his fingers from in her as her walls clench down on him. Her cry almost echoes in her room as his name is torn from her throat.

She relaxes against the mattress and he slowly pulls his hand away, she jolts then whines. That empty feeling coming through the other feeling of a heartbeat in her cunt. Her chest rapidly rises and falls.

“You may be too tight for me, Feyre darling.” His voice is husky in her ear as he lays next to her, he rolls onto his back to open her bedside drawer, raising an eyebrow as he pulls out a magic wand vibrator. She weakly smacks his chest.

“Shut up, I had to improvise. Tamlin wasn’t doing it.”

He stifles a laugh, but lets it roar at the next thing. “I can see.” He pulls out a glass dildo and holds it up. The curved pink shape of it reflecting and refracting the twinkling lights around her room. “Hopefully you won’t need these while I’m here. Not that I’m complaining if you want to use them while I watch.”

“Condom, prick.” Feyre growls out.

“As you wish, Feyre darling.” He sets the other toy back down and pulls out the square foil packet. He brings it up to his mouth and tears it open. The little rubber circle is pinched between his fingers as he tosses the foil aside. Feyre is buzzing with need and anticipation as he rolls it down the length of his cock.

“I have to say, you’re bigger.” She reaches down to take him in hand before she leans over to kiss up his neck.

“How do you want it, Feyre?” He grabs her head, fingers tightening on the back of her neck as his thumb strokes her jaw. “Do you want me to fuck you slow until you beg? Or do you want it fast, hard enough to make your headboard chip the walls?” He brushes his nose against hers, his breath coming out hot across her lips. She pulled her hand away from him to place it on his chest as she lifted herself up to hook a leg across him. She sat astride him, and his face was pure shock before morphing into a look of absolute lust when she guided his cock to her entrance. She sunk down on him with a groan of her own, his hands quickly gripping her hips. Feyre would have bruises and she didn’t care.

She arched back to place her hands on his calves as she rolls her hips. Little pants leave her mouth as she leans forward to place her hands on his chest. The moan that leaves Rhys makes her raise up on her knees and slam back down faster and harder. He thrusts his hips up to meet her on every one of hers, his hips guiding her pace.

“Rhysand,” she says his name as she lets him just move her. “Rhys, please.”

She doesn’t know what she’s begging for and it’s as if he knew all along. He rolls them over to press her back into the pillows. He cups her face and gives her a kiss as he continues to thrust, a fire builds in her and she whines his name. He buries his face in her neck as his hips pick up pace, Feyre clings to him, her feet hooked together around his thighs and her fingers digging into his back. She bites the skin on his shoulder as she comes undone. He doesn’t stop and she finds herself begging him, for what?

Not to stop?

To come again?

She doesn’t know because she’s no longer just Feyre and he’s no longer just Rhysand, they are now Feyre and Rhysand. She goes lax around him as she has reached her final climax, she encourages Rhys to keep going. His hips lose their rhythm as he groans and stiffens. He tries to roll off her but Feyre won’t let him go, her arms and legs hold fast.

“Feyre, darling?”

“Don’t go too far from me, please?” She closes her eyes and lets him go. Rhys only rolls to the side and she curls up against him as they fall into a peaceful sleep.

The throbbing emptiness is her first clue that something had happened the second was the smell of food cooking. The third was when she walked to the door and saw Rhys cooking naked. His glorious back side on perfect view to her, the bruises on his arms, back, and shoulder dark symbols that last night was indeed not a dream.

“Don’t hurt yourself by staring too hard, feyre darling.” His wicked voice breaks into her thoughts and Feyre rolls her eyes.

“Don’t get grease on your dick, I hear it’ll be quite painful.”

He laughs and she giggles, “will you be upset if I couldn’t use my cock, Feyre?” He turns the stove off and slides the scrambled eggs onto two plates and the toast. Nothing that would have grease to burn him with.

Feyre sits at a kitchen chair, vaguely aware of her equally unclothed state. “Well I’m sure your mouth would make up for it.”

Rhys stands in front of her and thumbs her bottom lip. “And what of your mouth, hmm?”

She takes a bite of eggs, thinking thoughtfully. Another bite then her eyes travel over every plane of him.

“I guess you’ll have to find out, Rhys.”


End file.
